


Emotionally Stunted Idiots

by iCheat



Series: Steter Week 2018 [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bad Roommate, Communication Failure, M/M, Misunderstandings, Slow Burn, Sort Of, Steter Week, Sugar Daddy, Touch-Starved, Use of Homophobic Slur, Werewolf Courting, belated fic, these boys are idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-16 22:21:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15447108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iCheat/pseuds/iCheat
Summary: College isn't going so well for Stiles when Peter Hale suddenly reappears in his life. It somehow goes worse than either of them could have predicted. They need to work on their communication.For day 4 of Steter week: Sugar Daddy/Baby AU AND Touch Starvation





	Emotionally Stunted Idiots

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what I'm doing. Belated because I sent the wrong thing to my Beta; thank you Cookie

So college… sucked. College sucked _ass_. Stiles was miserable in a way he hadn’t been even at the height of Jackson’s bullying years. His roommate was a douche with a tendency towards loud parties and/or sex, one of his teachers had already labelled him as a problem, he was living off cup noodles, and the pack hadn’t contacted him in months. The only time they’d contacted him at all was to let him know that Peter was in the wind again.

Stiles was constantly tired, hungry and on edge.

It felt like those years with the pack had never happened.

He _hated_ it.

Stiles sighed as he stared longingly into the Starbucks. He’d kill for a coffee. Literally. He would literally kill for a coffee. It might help relieve some of the stress too. It was probably concerning that he was starting to see murder as a reasonable solution. It was always concerning when he started commiserating with Peter.

“Well, hello Stiles.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Stiles exclaimed, whipping around to stare at Peter Hale, who had just stepped out of the Starbucks. He was dressed in very nice, definitely clean clothes, looking like he didn’t have a care in the world holding a hot cup of coffee.

Stiles hated him for all of it. Also, seriously? Did Stiles summon the guy by thinking of him too much? Was that a _thing_?

“Good to see you too,” Peter said with a smirk. “How are you doing these days?”

“Well, nothing’s attempted to murder me,” Stiles said, even as he turned away. He didn’t want to start a dialogue with Peter; that was asking for trouble. Also he was late for class. “So that’s nice.”

“Ah yes, the height of living,” Peter said, easily matching Stiles’ pace and walking beside him casually. Like that was normal. Stiles scowled at him. Peter just continued to smirk as he took a sip of his coffee. He immediately pulled a face.

“What? Not as black as your soul?” Stiles asked bitterly. Maybe he could kill _Peter_ for the coffee?

“I should have known better, I suppose,” Peter said with a roll of his eyes. “Here.”

Stiles fumbled slightly at Peter shoved the coffee towards him. He hadn’t really had a lot of casual interaction with people, he had a few study grounds and casual acquaintance-friends but not anything where they could casually shove themselves into each other’s space.

“Hey, I don’t want this,” Stiles said once he had the cup in hand. He looked up only to find Peter already walking away. Peter shot him a smirk over his shoulder.

“Sure you don’t,” he said, tapping his ear before he gave Stiles a wave. “See you around, Stiles.”

Stiles gaped after him for a moment before he remembered he was running late. He quickly took off for his class and just managed to get in on time. He took a sip of the coffee without thinking as he set up. It was amazing.

Damn you, Peter Hale.

* * *

“Did you get stood up?”

“Are you serious?” Stiles demanded as he watched Peter take the seat opposite him. They’d had a couple run ins since the first coffee incident two weeks ago. They always seemed to end with Stiles holding something he hadn’t been at the start. Usually coffee but sometimes food, and on one memorable occasion a very nice pair of gloves.

It was getting cold, ok? Stiles didn’t have the money for nice gloves if he wanted to eat.

“Why are you everywhere?” He continued, eyeing Peter suspiciously. He wasn’t holding any cups of food, so that was different.

“No need to exaggerate,” Peter said casually. “Are you dodging my question?”

“I didn’t get stood up,” Stiles said with a roll of his eyes. “I don’t have a date. I just came outside to study because my roommate decided on midday sex.”

“How inconsiderate,” Peter said. “So, how is that studying going?”

“Ha, I’m studying psychology, soon I will have names for all the issues people I know have.”

“Other than idiocy, you mean.”

“Dude, you were literally insane for a while. Remember, with the murder and what not? You do not get to take the high ground on mental health.”

“Ah, but I’m doing much better now. I’m fairly certain their idiocy is incurable.”

“Well, not everyone can be… actually, what _are_ you doing now?”

“I’m a lawyer, thank for finally asking.”

“Oh my God,” Stiles said with wide eyes. “You’re legally evil now.”

Peter’s genuine laughter in response to the comment was even more shocking than discovering he was a lawyer. It was a deep, hearty laugh. The kind of laugh Stiles could very much appreciate and he suddenly wished his jokes back in high school had been less caustic.

“Yes, I suppose that’s one way of looking at it,” Peter said with a smile. Stiles was saved from responding by a waiter coming up and setting down two plates and cups. Stiles went too objected but was stopped by Peter lightly kicking his ankle.

“Did you buy me lunch?” Stiles demanded once the waiter walked away, trying not the think about the way the burger and curly fried – _curly fries_ – were making his mouth water.

“It’s rude to just sit here without ordering anything,” Peter said as he started on his own meal. Stiles eyed him for a moment before eating his own food, and milkshake. God it was good to get some real food.

They ate in companionable silence for a moment. Stiles thoughts wandered a little. Peter actually did seem to be doing a lot better now. Stiles hadn’t been sure since he’d disappeared from Beacon Hills without as much as a by-your-leave. Stiles had kind of been expecting to show back up at a hunter massacre or something. To find him living peacefully in the city, apparently a lawyer, was a bit of a surprise. Not to mention how well he was doing with a pack.

Unless he’d joined one of those packs of convenience. Stiles wasn’t an idiot, he knew how to recognise the supernatural by now. He’d noticed the occasional meeting of people who didn’t seem to have any reason to meet. A lot of college kids and the occasional adult who, like Peter, must have decided they wanted to try life in the city.

Stiles had thought about going to one as well, but he wasn’t sure how well that would be taken.

He missed pack life though.

“You should laugh more,” Stiles said, nudging Peter under the table. He’d started it and Stiles missed having contact with people, ok? It was a perfectly normal, human issue. Humans were supposed to have physical contact.

“I guess you should hang around more,” Peter countered with a grin. Stiles hesitated, just for a moment.

“I guess you should message me next time you want to meet up instead of just showing up.”

Peter paused for a moment, looking surprised, then he gave Stiles a genuine smile and, holy shit, Peter was _cute_.

He’d known he was attracted to Peter, but he’d been surrounded by models in high school so it had just been a fact of life. Now though. Peter wasn’t a potential threat here. Well, he was, but the pack still hadn’t contacted Stiles and maybe he was being petty but he refused to contact them first after all this time so they didn’t know he’d found Peter. So sure, Peter was still dangerous, but he probably wasn’t going to use Stiles to get to the pack.

So maybe Stiles wouldn’t mind seeing him more often.

“I’d like that,” Peter said.

“Yeah, me too.”

* * *

Stiles glowered at his computer screen. The internet was not being nearly as helpful as it should be. He and Peter had been meeting regularly for meals, or even just to hang out, but nothing else. It was starting to drive Stiles insane.

They were basically dating. They did dating stuff, they went out to meals, they talked, they confided in each other. Peter had admitted to almost having become a professional chef and Stiles told him about how he liked to knit and crochet to destress. He was closer to Peter than anyone else at the moment and there was no way Peter couldn’t tell. He was a werewolf for God’s sake and Stiles was giving out all the go ahead signals. How could he _not_ know?

It wasn’t like _Peter_ didn’t want to either. Stiles had seen the aborted movements, ok? Stiles was taking psychology and had a history of needing to read people. He knew body language. He’d seen how Peter looked at his lips, how he occasionally reached for Stiles before pulling back, how he leaned towards him without quite touching.

Peter wanted to be dating. _Stiles_ wanted to be dating.

Why the fuck weren’t they dating?!

The internet wasn’t helping. He just kept getting stuff about how to tell if a guy liked you or how to make a guy like you. Both of those were already covered. He wanted to know how to make a guy who liked him agree to date him when the guy was being a stubborn asshole for some reason. Seriously, it’d be good if he could at least work out what Peter’s deal was that would be great. It was something about the gifts he was sure.

Peter just kept buying him stuff. Still a lot of food. He paid for all the meals they went to together, and he’d somehow managed to pay for Stiles’ groceries a couple times, but also other things. Stiles’ bag had gotten a hole and Peter had shown up to their next meeting with a really nice one that he’d just handed over with a shrug. Stiles had mentioned that he was looking for a particular book and he’d had it by the next meeting.

It was a thing. If Stiles mentioned it or Peter noticed it wasn’t in perfect condition Stiles’ suddenly had a new one. Stiles hadn’t been doing so well even before he moved away for college.

It was weird. It was weird right?

Like, if they were dating maybe Stiles could excuse some of it. People who were dating bought each other presents right? Except, Stiles offered to pay. He was doing much better now and he’d _offered_ to pay for a few meals. Peter always turned him down. Even if it was just coffee Peter refused to let Stiles pay for _anything_.

Stiles was slowly losing his mind. For once he wasn’t struggling with money and he just felt guilty about it.

Sure, Peter didn’t look to be struggling either but it still wasn’t fair.

“Package for you,” Michael said, throwing the box at Stiles before he’d even fully turned around. Dick. Honestly Stiles would rather be living with _Jackson_ at this stage. What if it’d been something fragile? The box wasn’t exactly small either.

Also he hadn’t actually ordered anything.

With a frown Stiles opened the box and gaped. It was full of yarn. Really high quality, _expensive_ yarn. Holy shit. _Holy shit_. Stiles had always just used whatever he could get his hands on. He’d never had a problem with that. He’d never even thought about getting _cashmere yarn_.

What the actual fuck?

“Wow, you’re using your sugar daddy for yarn?” Michael said with a sneer. The same sneer he wore whenever he saw Stiles doing anything ‘feminine’, because he was a misogynistic douche. “It’d take way more than that to turn me into a fag.”

Oh look at that, he was a homophobe too.

He was also on the floor holding his nose. Oops?

Stiles took the yarn to his room and vaguely wondered if Michael would report him. Probably not, he’d get way more shit if Stiles announced he’d punched him because he’d called Stiles a fag for knitting.

Besides, Stiles and more important things to worry about.

How had he missed that he had a god damn sugar daddy?

* * *

“Are you trying to fucking buy me?” Stiles demanded, throwing the ridiculously soft bundle at Peter as he stormed into the man’s apartment. God he wished he’d brought something heavier. Maybe the _one of a kind, old as shit_ magic book that had appeared at his apartment after he’d turned Peter down for their not-date. The thing weighed a tone and was worth more than Stiles’ entire life.

It was fucking amazing.

“I don’t-”

“Because I will not be bought! I am a human being and you can’t buy people!” Stiles continued, completely ignoring Peter. “What is even the point? Since you can’t even bring yourself to do actually dating stuff with me. I’m not as pathetic as you apparently think.”

“How did you even-”

“I can buy my own food and pay for my own hobbies and living and-”

“Stiles, did you _make_ -”

“And I don’t _need_ you!” Stiles snapped whirling back towards Peter. Peter had unfolded the sweater Stiles had made with his new fancy yarns. It was ridiculously soft, deep blue to bring out Peter’s eyes and a fancy enough pattern that it wouldn’t look out of place in Peter’s wardrobe. Stiles had angry/confused knit it as he tried to work out what the hell was going on in his life and why Peter was apparently ok being his sugar daddy but not his boyfriend.

Peter looked back at Stiles with wide eyes, his mouth slightly open and his shoulders tensing slightly. There was something in his eyes but Stiles couldn’t quite place it.

Neither of them said anything for a long moment. Eventually Stiles scoffed and stalked right back out of Peter’s apartment, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

~~Stiles I didn’t mean for~~

~~You’re not pathetic you’re~~

~~I think you’ve misunderstood~~

~~Did you want to meet for~~

~~I don’t know what to do~~

~~I didn’t want you to send it back it was a _gift_~~

~~Stiles please~~

~~Please I just wanted~~

~~I really~~

~~I’m sorry~~

No new messages from The Wolfman

* * *

Stiles got up to answer the door since he knew Michael wouldn’t. The guy had somehow managed to up the douche level after Stiles punched him. Stiles wouldn’t have minded so much, he knew how to deal with assholes, except it had been weeks since he’d had any contact with Peter. He had sunk back to his pre-Peter state and he was not enjoying it.

He missed the man, damn it.

He missed talking to him, hanging out, occasionally getting to try some of Peter’s homemade food. He didn’t miss the gifts so much. He’d sent back the last package without opening it. He didn’t need the gifts, he didn’t need Peter buying his meals.

He didn’t _need_ Peter.

He just wanted him. He wanted to hold hands on actual dates. He wanted to kiss him and spend time with him and…

He wanted Peter to want him back enough to actually _act_ on it instead of just throwing money around like Stiles was some pathetic weakling that needed Peter to look after him.

Stiles opened the door to find an unfamiliar woman in a tailored outfit looking stern and professional. He immediately began to panic internally.

“Stiles Stilinski?” She said with the tone of someone who already definitely knew who Stiles was. “I’m Valerie.

“What is happening?” Stiles asked in a horrified voice. Valerie just nodded like this answered everything.

“Listen, I don’t know what Peter did but I’d _appreciate_ it if you could work through whatever is happening between you two.”

“Peter?” Stiles repeated blankly.

“Yes. I understand that he can be difficult to… interact with, and he’s somehow even _more_ emotionally stunted since the fire, but I can assure you that you mean a lot to him. So, if you could pull him out of whatever funk he’s buried himself in for screwing up and get him back to work, we’d really appreciate it.”

Stiles stared for a long moment. Valerie stared back before she let out a sigh.

“If you wanted to grab a few things, I’d be happy to drive you over,” she prompted. Stiles had a sudden insight that she might very well drag him kicking and screaming to the car if she had to. He nodded, grabbed his bag, the text-books he was supposed to read and the hat he was currently crocheting before coming back to the door where she was still waiting.

Valerie merely nodded at him again and led him downstairs, out of the building and into a car with a chauffeur. Stiles was going to have a heart attack. Valerie pulled out a tablet and presumably started working. Stiles, desperately needing to occupy his hands before he tried to climb out the window to escape this madness, pulled out his project and tried to focus on the stitches.

It didn’t work very well but eventually they arrived at Peter’s building. Stiles opened the door and got out only to realise Valerie hadn’t.

“Are you not coming?”

“I doubt he’d appreciate my intrusion,” Valerie said with a snort. “Wolves can be so territorial.”

The door closed and the car pulled away before Stiles could react beyond internal screaming. What the fuck was his _life_ , seriously?

Oh well, nothing else for it now. With grim determination Stiles headed inside.

No one answered when Stiles knocked so he tried the handle. He was immediately on guard when he found that it was open. He warily stepped inside and shut the door behind him, wary for any sudden movements.

Nothing.

Like, actually nothing. The room barely showed any signs of being lived in. Stiles frowned as he continued through the apartment somewhat uncomfortably. He had only actually been here the one time and he hadn’t exactly been _invited_. Peter hadn’t even told him where he lived, it just wasn’t something that had come up, Stiles had just decided it was something he should know.

He dropped his bag and continued into the apartment. The not lived in theme continued through the hall until Stiles was hesitating at the door to the bedroom. Taking a deep breath he shoved the door open and was met by darkness. A low whine came from the bed and as Stiles approached glowing blue eyes fixed on him and the whine picked up a notch.

“Jesus, Peter,” Stiles said in horror, approaching the bed in concern. “What the hell?”

“I’m sorry,” Peter said in a rough, unused voice. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. You’re not pathetic. Please. Please, I’m sorry.”

“Ok, ok, God Peter, it’s _fine_ ,” Stiles said, sitting on the bed so he could gently put his hand on Peter’s shoulder. Peter tensed than relaxed completely, releasing another low whine. “Jesus, _Peter_ , I need you to explain this to me. I don’t know what to do.”

“You said you don’t need me,” Peter said, attempting to curl further into himself. “You sent the gift back. You declined the court.”

“The court?” Stiles repeated. Then suddenly everything fell into place. The gifts, the slow pace, the fucking food. “For fuck’s sake, Peter. You have to tell me things like that. My werewolf knowledge is the internet, Scott and Derek. You think either of them knew or told me anything about werewolf courting?”

“You didn’t…”

“I didn’t know,” Stiles confirmed with a sigh as he climbed onto the bed beside Peter. “Even if I’d known it was a thing that existed I doubt courting would have been at the top of my research list. Are you wearing the sweater I made?”

“You made it for me.”

“That I did. Ok, we’re going to talk through all this tomorrow. Then we are going to talk about some therapy or something for you because Valerie was right, you’re emotionally stunted.”

“You met Valerie?”

“She terrifies me.”

“Sensible response.”

“I thought so. So, tomorrow. Breakfast, you explain courting, we look into a supernatural therapist, we make very clear rules on fucking communicating with each other so this bullshit doesn’t happen, and then I want to go on an actual date where I get to hold your hand and kiss and stuff.”

“I… would like that.”

“Good, and Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“I _don’t_ need you, but I _do_ want you.”

“…I want you too.”

“Excellent, now go to sleep.”

“Alright.”

Peter wrapped his arms around Stiles and pulled him in. Stiles happily let him. He still wasn’t entirely sure what the whole courting thing was about exactly, but he was sure it would be a lot better once both of them actually knew what was going on.

Plus he was really enjoying the cuddle session.

Maybe once they’d worked this out Stiles could leave Michael behind.

Cohabitation probably fell _somewhere_ in werewolf courting, right?

**Author's Note:**

> Did I actually hit these themes? I'm not sure.


End file.
